


The Porch Girl

by planetofthewillow



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Short Story, aph
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 09:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2063655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/planetofthewillow/pseuds/planetofthewillow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emily Jones lives in a nursing home. She's foul mouthed and happens to teach a young man the meaning of beauty and compassion by complete accident in this short story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Porch Girl

Emily bewitched Samuel Virginia when he saw her at the old folks’ home. He went to visit his mother who had decided not to remain with him at home. His wife Opal wouldn’t be able to visit and so he ventured alone. He tucked his hands deep in his pockets and walked up the porch. There, he saw Emily. He turned his head and saw her in profile as something just about angelic. She had aged beautifully. The side of her face he saw was blemish-free and smooth as stone. Her lips were red and delicate. Her hair fell about her face like a cloud of gentle blonde. He stopped in his tracks, trying to find any hint of age. He found it in her hands which had withered and stuck out before her, as if they caused her great pain.

He walked past, trying to shake the image of her off. Then he didn’t know her name. He called her The Porch Girl, since she couldn’t have been over fifty. He went inside and had a brief discussion with his mother who was busy playing cards with her elderly friends and shooed him off tartly, frowning. Sam had nothing better to do than visit with The Porch Girl who really did look awful lonely.

The porch was newly painted white, in accordance with most Southern homes, and was framed with an array of golden flowers. They cradled each flank of wood. A summer breeze moved through. The Porch Girl’s hair rippled in the breeze. She shut her eyes, or eye from what Sam could see, in bliss. He approached her.

“What a lovely day.” He said, standing next to her. He was a wiry man with a mousy face. His hair had begun to turn into wispy tufts and his nose barely supported his wire-framed glasses.

“It is.” She nodded. Her voice was a sweet accented melody. “You’ve come here to see someone?”

“Yes, my mother, but she doesn’t seem too happy to see me.” He laughed uneasily, casting her eyes over her figure, a nice plump sort of shape. He didn’t feel any sense of attraction, only a mystification of beauty. He thought of his wife and felt a sudden fire in his heart, and, well, his loins.

“Is it that Mrs. Virginia then? Oh she doesn’t like to see no one.” The Porch Girl shook her head and then turned to face Sam. Sam recoiled at once, his eyes widening in fear.

Her face had been split in two. He had seen the beautifully carved face and now was exposed to the other side. The eye was missing and around it was a blackened, molten looking piece of flesh. Scars crossed her cheek and one scar trailed from her hairline down to her chin, as if someone had taken a hook and pulled through her flesh. One half of her mouth was upturned in a cute smile and the other was pushed into a permanent leer.

Sam didn’t know what to feel. As far as he knew, he should be running away in fear. But, a different, more intelligent part of him said that it was only a part of her face that was disgusting.

“Miss Emily,” someone else called from across the porch. An old withered woman was looking at her with a broad grin. “Don’t scare the poor child.”

“I wasn’t going to. I planned on keeping my face half in shadow, like you said.” Emily said back, laughing.

“I’m sorry, Miss.” Sam said shyly. “I was just surprised.”

“Don’t bother.” Emily said with a shake of her head and a wave of her hand. “I’ve seen it too many times.”

“Seen what?”

“Well, that look of disgust. They see a pretty little thing and go wild. Then when I turn my head and the men just about faint from the ugliness. Damn, if that mutt hadn’t gotten to me.” She winced from the memory. “But,” she continued, nonplussed by Sam’s objection, “I don’t have to worry. A man loved me more than anything once. Back then sometimes I would try to cover my face and it was all in vain, let me tell you.

“But he… he took one look at my face and I bet he couldn’t see anything wrong with it. He said my voice and my character and my mind were the three things he needed. I thought it was a load of shit. I told him that and I gave him a smack across his ever loving face.

“Like a fly you just can’t seem to kill, he came right back and begged for my love. He even wrote me a poem. I still have it, mind you, and I read it each night like a prayer. I keep it because it reminds me how later he said that my face was beautiful and even the ugly side had a sense of such… How’d he put it?” She paused, licking her lips. Her tongue passed over the turned, coarse skin on her damaged side.

The other woman sighed. “He said it had a lot of character.”

“How’d you know?” Emily asked.

“You tell the story to anyone who’s crazy enough to stay near you for a while.” The woman looked at Sam, squinting. “Run, young man, before it’s too late.”

Sam blushed and rubbed the back of his neck, laughing uneasily. “No, ma’am, it’s nothing, really…”

“Well, he looked right at my face and kissed me where even my ma didn’t dare.” Emily continued, reclining on the porch chair. He noticed the look of pain flashing on her face as she did so. She must have had hip trouble as well as arthritis in both hands. “Damn pills don’t do a damn thing.” She muttered under her breath, heaving a troubled groan.

Sam settled on the bench across from her. From his position it looked as though her face was half-hidden in shadow. Her gaze was even and sullen, sizing him up. He was disturbed by her foul language but something there caught his attention, something beyond simple physical appearance. Maybe that’s what her sweetheart saw. He thought of his wife who was beginning to grow plump. He had once debated with her, threatening to leave if she didn’t get a hold of her health. Did he really worry over her health or was it some lame excuse for his own vain desires?


End file.
